Dear Hatori Bisco,
by FailingDemi
Summary: Reality hit Ouran...really, really hard... o. o;


**Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran, nor am I insulting anything about the elderly people. Everything I say is only to contribute to the main point that I am trying to bring, and yes, I am over exaggerating it. I respect the eldery and appreciate them a lot, but if you find this offending, then please do not bring that problem to me.**

**If you find this overly hilarious and say that you agree that all elderly people are fart faces (just using this as an example) then I don't want to see anything of that either.**

Enjoy.

It is now the year 2051 and the fangirls have ruled the world.

No one can complain about gay people anymore because they have all been obliterated by a moe bazooka. The fangirls have successfully captured the world, threw all of world's system down the drain, and united the people of anime to become permanent residence of their vast kingdom.

Ouran High School Academy have been thwarted and thrown off its reign through the power of the ultimate Moe Princess—Renge, now the age of my grandma—who quickly turned the glimmering towers of pink royalty into _gallantly_ shining pillars of _moe_ and trap students and her beloved host club within the evil gates that stood by her power. She would cackle on her megaphone and it would resound through the glittery halls that blind every man/woman that steps foot onto the campus. She booted off the superintendent and denied all graduating students from ever leaving the school. (Not like they actually _move_ grades in the manga though…)

Caught up in their never ending high school life, the lovable first year twins—Hitachiin Hikaru, Hitachiin Kaoru—have now shot past the age of 61, lost their mischievous ways and became crabby, denture-popping old hags. The second years, also the President and Vice president, Suoh Tamaki and Ohtori Kyouya, have gotten their own retirement homes and have acquired a skill of a ten-second delayed reaction, despite the normal functioning statistics of everyone's grandparents out there. Morinozuka Takashi's growing powers were quickly snatched away, and instead of growing ever since he was 19, he began to shrink and become a poor crippled old man. Haninozuka Mitsukuni, on the other hand, shot high over 8 feet and is stilling growing.

A new horror to behold.

An evil tyrant that one she is…

The Host Club has never been so slow in the whole entire life of their high school years. Profits went down, Kyouya had said, pausing every so often to use his rusted yet sharp brain. He raised a finger, his eyes closing rather smartly.

Ten seconds passed, and it seemed like he was thinking a bit too hard—

"We need…" He paused a seemingly smart pause. "To…"

And life began to move on.

The Host Club did poorly in their duty of serving the ladies. Silence managed to sneak in while Tamaki, the worn king, tried his best to summon up his once well-known praises seemingly out from nowhere. Alas, he kept his eyes closed too long and only produced nothing but a well-stretched snore.

The twins, no longer interested in doing brotherly act, taken to the crabbiness of all old people—yelling at the customers in loud cracking voices (not losing their sync at all) to get off their damn lawn.

Disregarding the fact that there wasn't any lawn that was of their property there in the first place.

Kaoru's dentures popped out and landed within two feet of him, and they spent the rest of their time searching for the lost false teeth when it was shining, all in its glorious splendor…two feet in from of them.

Mori, oh poor Mori, the sad gentle giant. He no longer stood up taller than his cousin. In fact, his legs became so short that it now dangled from the seat, and he no longer appealed with his tallness. His cousin sat next to him, nibbling quietly at the cookie that he was given, having lost his charms so many years ago when he began to grow taller. Such a strange tragedy as such to have lost their moe…

And she…

Yes…

_She…_

She walked through the door as normal as she could be, eyes closed in frustration, as she straightened her uniform from the previous chaos outside.

"Hey, guys, have you seen what was happening-" Her eyes popped open. "-_woah_…What…the…_fuck_?"

Yes, people.

This.

Was the last host member, _ever_.

And she was…

"H-Hasumi…" the king croaked, trying to narrow his dulled blue eyes at her. He couldn't see her very clearly, only a faint outline of the cross-dresser. "Izzat…you…?"

She flinched at the sound.

He sounded like a dying duck.

Two minutes passed and he maintained his pose for quite…a long time.

"_HARUHI!"_

She jumped back, eyes springing open. "Uhm…yes…that's me…" she said cautiously, backing away from the door. After all…she haven't seen people…like that…so…_wrinkly_… "Do I know you…?"

Was she losing her mind?

…she wondered.

"OMIGOD, IT'S—"

Pause for a few seconds and a high squeaky sound of breathing filtered through the air.

"HARU—"

"H_iiiii_—"

She sat up quickly, eyes wide and twitching in her bed.

She looked at the calendar, beyond disturbed by the creepiest dream that she ever had.

Good…

It was still the current of 200X.

"Hey, sweetie pie! The sun's singin' over the high—" A dry wheeze. "Hills— -coughcoughwheeze-"

...the yellow pages of the calendar buckled over and fell from its rusty nail.

Haruhi twitched, disturbed.

That _really _sounded like something was dying.

Fujioka Haruhi, the only normal and teenager host that there is left, pondered inside of the infirmary long and hard thinking of what she was to do. But she knew one genuine fact that she have learned of this place, the mere threads of this world—was _not_ of reality itself! It was the fabrication of the fangirl's minds. Their will to dominate all shoujo and shonen comic book characters and throw crazy story plots of many different dimensions have overruled the already complex shoujo/shonen life that they lead through the strokes and lines of the mangaka's pen.

Haruhi will not let this world she had lived once to fall from the grayscaled screentones of the once proud book of Ouran. NO. She will not stand by it and allow herself to be wasted away like the other Host Club members, forced to repeat the _same_ grade over and over again, all for the fact that _all_ fanfictions are based off the threads of the canon.

The world cannot all be about school, school, and _more_ school.

If she goes on like this—

She'll become like the rest of them! Wrinkly and saggy, _perfectly_ unable to satisfy the girls at Ouran anymore!

She has to do something about it.

-Sometime later…

An email popped up onto the screen, blaring so brightly in the dark room:

_With most and utmost polite regards towards the high and mighty mangaka Hatori Bisco,_

_Screw your manga._

_We /really/ need a life._

_-Sincerely,_

_Your Heroine of Ouran High School Host Club,_

_Fujioka Haruhi. _


End file.
